Purgatory
by Miss Pontmercy
Summary: Cosette was abandoned when her father and Marius went to the barricades- how does she spend that torturous day alone, waiting for her father to come home? How does one survive a day such as that? I will definately expand further on. Cosette's POV.
1. Waiting

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I cannot deny: today was the worst day of my life. It sounds melodramatic to say it, but I feel I have earned the right. True, when I awoke this morning I felt a glimmer of hope, hanging out of my window and listening to the chatter of birds underneath the sill, but now, nothing. After hours of waiting for them, I feel that I would not be any the worse if I just rolled over and died.

Honestly- how dare they leave like this? Try as I might to fight them off, I feel angry, burning tears creeping their way into my eyes. For the umpteenth time that day I just let the fall, bitterly crying. Their two, beloved faces swim into my mind, faces that usually inspire comfort and love, and all I feel is anger. How _dare_father leave me like this, with no goodbye, no explanation? And how could Marius, after using those chilling, promising words with me that last night in the rue Plumet, simply nor come back for me? He promised he would come back!

I feel something ghost over my face, and my hand reaches up, fingers resting on my lips. Marius had kissed those lips not four nights ago- something unexpected and natural. I knew it had been _right,_ no matter how wrong it was. But that was the last time I had seen him.

When I think on it, it seems odd. It was not like Marius to simply break a promise. And though Papa had his old eccentricities, he certainly would not just up and leave... Something was strange today, that was obvious.

I feel my heart turn to ice as Toussaint's words from the morning shuffled through my mind once again:

_I hope Monsieur knows what he's getting into, going out and about today. I know he's a bit strange, but even he would not be as stupid as to walk about with all those rebels. A brave man like him, well, he's probably not afraid, Mademoiselle, but I certainly would not want a gun like that pointed in my face!_

The shots had stopped an hour ago, I had counted. What I had been foolishly taken to be slamming shutters were actually gunshots. Deadly gunshots that end people's lives.

And Marius and Papa were out there, somewhere.

I had just thought idly of dying, but Marius or Papa might already be...

I shake off the thought, trying to again muster up some anger for them in order to hide the deep, encompassing fears... What if they don't come back? What if they... can't?

_Come, Cosette,_ I tell myself. _They're just being ignorant, nothing more. They just had a selfish day today, that is it. They will beg for your forgiveness later tonight! Truly. _Yes. That's it. In an hour, Papa will be here, and once the clock strikes ten o'clock, I'll hear the sound of someone throwing pebbles at my window. Ha! They will expect me to be soft, kind, whisper nice things to them... well, not after they left me like this! They leave me to wait in the dust all day, going about, being men while I, a woman, am left home. Well, this will teach them: I may not be allowed out, but they shan't leave me again! When they come back, I believe that I shall turn them away. Yes, that is what I will do. They won't get a kiss, an embrace, a hand, a kind word... nothing!

Oh, my dear Lord in Heaven, let them be alright.

Truthfully, I now know that I would rather be tortured in Hell than wait in Purgatory. Waiting is so much worse- actually, waiting _is_torture. Today proved that. No matter how many tiny things I did to occupy my mind today, nothing worked. Needlework, packing, unpacking, and repacking, brushing my hair, reading a book... nothing spared my mind from the torture of wondering if they would be alright.

I pushed myself to hope, to see some light. Maybe Papa would not be taking me to England after all... Maybe...

Some stray thought dawns in my mind... Maybe none of this was actually wrong! Maybe it was _wonderful... _But no! I daren't even think it. I daren't hope, but, hadn't Marius hinted that he wanted to 'try something.' Could it be that he was out with father, this very moment...?

No, I knew. In the pit of my stomach, I know that is not true. But it is better than the alternatives, isn't it? I let myself hope for a moment, for hoping is what I am good at.

I indulge in a fantasy, a new fantasy I have: one in which Marius and my Papa are friends. Good friends, in fact, and he approves of us. We go about as we like, and when I am not in the room, I can hear the two of them laughing and talking to each other. In my fantasy, Marius and I are married- well, sometimes married, sometimes betrothed, it never really matters. But we are free to walk about in public, and we do not have to hide. But best of all, the three of us, me, Marius, and Papa, spend all of our days together, soaked in happiness and love...

Hope. I know this is not in my future, but a part of it- any part of my fantasy, I will take. I do not need everything. But there are a few key points that I know I cannot continue without.

Marius. Papa.

I hope with everything I have- it is what is keeping me from going mad. These hours have had year stuffed into them. I feel like an old woman now, not a girl anymore. I know that a day is not long- after all, how long is twenty-four hours? Short, I suppose. But not this particular twenty-four hours. Someone must be lying- today was actually a week.

Slowly, I slide down from the couch and kneel on the ground, pulling my hands up into a praying position. I beg God for their safety, promising Him that, if they are safe, I shall never take anything for granted again.

_I will be kind to them day in and day out, thanking God for his gift of their love. I promise that I shall do more good deeds for the poor, and that I shall take remarkable care of them. Marius and Papa, they will want for nothing if they are returned to me. I shall do everything I can to make them happy, and to make our Father, creator of the universe, pleased with me. I shall be a good Christian and obey his rules. If I have done anything in the past of upset him, please do not take it out on those dear men. Take it out on me. Let _me_ die._

I cannot pray anymore- my voice is scratched and harsh from all of the whispers I have mumbled out today, and I sit back on the couch, fighting tears.

The clock strikes some hour, I do not know which one. It is dark out now. The shots have ceased, and it is eerily quiet. If I listen, I can hear a coach outside the apartments, a door slamming, a man's voice... Just proof that life goes on.

A key turns in the lock, and I almost feel my ears perk up, my heart leap out of my chest, a smile break across my face, a smile too big to be contained on it. All my fears wash away: Papa is home!

I hear the sound of his footsteps on the landing and up the stairs, a sound I know so well. I wait here, on the couch in the small, dingy sitting room, but it is all I can do not to run and embrace him. I hear his footsteps stop halfway up the stairs, and he lets out a sigh. It sounds like... what? Relief, or so it seems. He does not move for a long time, and I can feel his happiness and relaxation. Everything would be alright, I know. All of my hopes and prayers in the past days, and mainly in this particular day, have paid off. This is why I hope: it always works. God is good, God is forgiving and God loves.

All the agony of waiting washed away in a single moment: if Papa is safe, then Marius is safe, I know. That is how it works, isn't it?

I close my eyes when I hear Papa coming closer. When I hear him reach the landing and thus the sitting room, I open my eyes.

The sight that meets me is too much. I see him, huge and so familiar, and yet he is too different. He is covered in many things, some that I do not recognize. But his white shirt is torn and covered with something red. This I do recognize.

It is too much... My sight fades, and I am gone.

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**I will be continuing this for a while- can't wait to hear your thoughts. I'll even take some suggestions- provided they are cannon, of course. But there's tons of room for growth- the next four months in the series time line are essentially empty. Let me know! **


	2. Papa Comes Home

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The darkness presses down on me... I see glimmers and hear voices, but the dark is like a thick blanket which I cannot see through, cannot push away.

"Cosette." I hear this word, my name, short and familiar coming from near by. "Cosette."

I push with everything I have, and the darkness parts, light shining through into consciousness. I see my living room, and I see...

Papa is sitting above me, his clean and bright white shirt matching his hair and his whiskers. I look up, confused. When did he get here? Hadn't he been gone all day?

"What happened?" I whisper, my heart picking up. Papa is here! He is safe!

"You fainted," he said, and then I notice that he is holding a wet cloth to my forehead. "You've never fainted before," he whispered, his strong brow creasing in worry.

"I am fine," I say, even though I am not fine, not yet. I want to know where he was, where he had been all day. I remember it all now, the whole day, or at least up until I fainted: I remember praying, and I remember Papa coming home. He came home before I fainted, hadn't he? "How long was I unconscious?"

"Oh, just a few minutes," he says, his eyes glancing away.

"Really? It felt like longer," I say distractedly, already worrying about other things, my mind not dwelling on myself anymore.

He smiles at me. "How would you know? You were unconscious!"

I stand up, but Papa puts a hand on my arm and pushes me gently back towards the couch. "Don't stand yet- you might lose your bearings."

I nod, letting him do as he likes, so I can think. The comfort I have because father is home is truly groundless, I realize. I still do not know where he was, what he was doing. I don't know where Marius is, or when I am leaving for... I cannot finish that thought. I feel something in my throat.

"Papa, where were you today?" I ask. This is the easiest one.

"Hmm?" he answers, not looking at me.

"I said, 'where were you today?' You were gone almost all day and I had no idea where you were- you made me worry too much, Father, and I do not know if I can forgive you until you give me a good reason to do so."

I try to make him smile- I try to scold him and to act the way he likes, so that he'll say something comforting. But Papa doesn't answer, he just looks up. He looks at me strangely, as though I am different. Am I? Have I changed after spending an entire day waiting in Purgatory? I would imagine it would show on my face. Papa just keeps staring, looking at me as though I am older now. I can sense from his gaze that he knows something he is not telling me.

"What do you mean? I ran a few errands this morning, that is all. But Cosette, there is something I want to talk to you about-"

"No, Papa, it is," I look at the clock, "nine o'clock at night. I remember looking at the clock at five, and you were not there. I waited for hours afterwards, but you still did not come home. I woke early this morning, and you were already gone. That's _all day,_ Papa. It wasn't until just now-"

"Hush, Cosette," he says in the tone that means he will explain everything to me, "Listen to me. I was out for most of the day, you are right, running errands. I am perfectly safe- I know you heard about the fighting-"

"Yes, Father, and I was frightened!"

"I apologize for making you worry, my dear daughter," he says to me, taking one of my small hands in his large one. I look at him warily for a long time before he finishes. "I was out for a few hours. There were a great many things to be done, especially considering our move to England."

My heart freezes, and I think that I have gone pale.

"But Cosette, there are more pressing matters to attend to then where I was today. Do you understand?"

I nod. He must be right, after all. I _did_ faint, and he explained his absence... This growing sense of dread and worry must be misplaced somehow. Papa has been known to go out for long periods of time, on errands and such. I am just worrying, being a silly girl. "Just leave a note next time you leave," I say, and that is that. Papa _was_ telling the truth, I am positive.

I have to believe that- if he is lying to me, then goodness knows who else is!

"I promise. But Cosette, let me finish."

I nod, bracing myself to listen to more news. Last time he said the word "news," it had to do with moving to England. That had been just atrocious- I hope for better now.

"We will not be going to England."

My heart skips a beat- I must not have heard him...! He cannot have said... but could he...?

"Pardon?"

He repeats it, and sure enough, I am right. He said the words, the blissful words that I have been praying to hear. They sound like music, and I feel my heart dance in the chamber of my chest... Free, I am free!

"At least not now, anyway," Papa says, and I do not care. Later is later- but for now I am saved! "Some things have... cleared up, and well- there is business here to attend to."

But I am only half-listening. Papa just told me we are staying in Paris- how could I listen? I _adore_ Paris. I will never leave Paris as long as I live, I vow to myself- Paris is my home and the place of my heart... Everything will be alright now, no? All the problems were caused by moving to England, and now that is gone, so the other problems must be gone as well, or so I hope.

"Why did you want to go to England anyway?" I chatter to him, ever so delighted. I feel as though I am walking on air! "I hear it is ugly and cloudy most of the time, and that it is raining almost _always. _Papa, in England we couldn't have a garden- or at least not a pretty one, just a dreary garden with soggy soil-"

"Cosette, listen to me," he says, his voice going bold. "Are you or are you not acquainted with a man named Marius Pontmercy?"

My heart seems to stop. The joy from moments before is replaced bya swooping, guilty feeling in my stomach: the feeling of being caught doing something wrong. This time I _know_ I have gone pale, for I feel all the blood leave my face and fall towards my feet. _How did he find out? Who told him? Who knew? _I know no one knew besides Marius and I- and I have not breathed a word. Had Marius told? Had he viewed our meetings as just that... meetings? Rendezvous? Had he felt differently, treated us casually, spoke of me to his friends? It seemed like something so private, something neither of us would speak about in the daytime... But had he recounted everything the next day to that friend of his...?

No, I know he has not. It must be an accident then, that Father found out. Something happened, someone found out- it does not matter how, I realize. I do not care, but I know that for first time in my life, I fear my Father. Never before have I seen his eyes look angrily at me, and they do not look angry now. Right now his eyes betray no emotion, but I can ever so easily imagine them shining with fury... What if he is livid? What if he wants to punish me? What if he wants to find Marius and punish_ him?_ What if he already has?

Marius and I both knew it was wrong to be meeting like that, after dark and alone- but honestly, we have done nothing _wrong!_ And we had no other choice- to not see each other was truly more unnatural and wrong than to sneak away to be together. Marius said it himself that God willed for us to find each other. True, we were unchaperoned. But I would swear on all the love in my heart that neither of us broke any serious rules. I do not know much, but I know we have been innocent- I know I have been good, and that Marius had been a gentleman. But Papa will not know that- he may not believe us... Will he forbid us from seeing each other?

"Cosette, answer me," he says harshly. I set my jaw, trying not to let tears escape.

"Yes, I am."

"How?"

"We..." Oh, this was hard. Why was questioning me like this, putting me on the spot? I feel tears escape- I know Papa will be angry, I know he will assume I have been bad, when I have not! _I have not!_ "Papa- I have done nothing wicked! I love him- I do, but I have honored you and respected you and also respected myself. We've just been talking- that's all. Just talking." _And kissing,_ I think, remembering the last time I had seen Marius, but I do not feel guilty for omitting this. It had been short, and fueled by passion and sadness- not (and I blush to even think it!) lust. But it was private... it could have been our last moment together, I do not know yet. I want it to be mine, all _mine mine mine..._

I look up, tears in my eyes, beseeching my father to believe me, to forgive me. "Please, papa- believe me, I know it was wrong, but not evil. Please- I hope you understand, I shall... never do it again. I shan't disobey you again." I say impulsively, knowing as I say it that I may regret it later. But if this is what it takes for Papa to forgive me- us- then I shall pay the price, to save the love he has for me.

"I know you have not sinned," Papa says, his expression guarded. I know him well enough to know when he is biting his tongue. A long silence passes and my heart beats, dividing the moments. "I did not ask so I could punish you. I am passing on information. Today I received notice from a Monsieur Gillenormond."

_Monsieur Gillenormond... Gillenormond..._

The word tumbles through my brain, and I know it... but I cannot place it. The memory of it is attached with Marius, somehow.

"Yes?"

"Monsieur Pontmercy's grandfather."

Ah! Yes! That was it- the one he was not speaking to.

"Yes?" I say again, treading carefully. Where was Papa going with this?

"He sent me a message to pass on to you." Papa holds my gaze, and I try not to break it, trying to understand, and more than anything wanting this conversation to be over so that I will know whether to be joyful or distraught. "The fighting in the streets that you heard about- well..."

_Oh no._

"Monsieur Pontmercy was there."

_Dear God..._

"He has made it home."

_Please let him be alright..._

"Someone- and it is a great mystery who- carried him back."

_He's not... He's... he's..._

"Why did he... need to be carried?" I ask timidly, truly not wanting to know the answer.

"He has been shot."

_So have I_.

Or so it seems.


	3. A Swollen Heart

**Hi everyone! Thanks to the people who reviewed; I really appreciate it. I would always love more, though! :)**

**Mainly This post is because I wanted to remind anyone who didn't know that this chapter of the story also goes along with another, shorter story I wrote about Cosette, called "Bitterness." Please read and review that one- it's about this same theme!**

**Enjoy!**

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The rest of the evening passes even more excruciatingly than the day had. I learn more of the details, and learn that I was better off not knowing:

Marius lay in his grandfather's house, battling for his life, while I sit in my living room. I wait, listening to the clock tick away seconds, and know that each could be the last second of Marius' life. Once again, hope is getting me through: I am clinging to this glowing warmth of the hope inside of me- I am choosing to believe that I will no longer feel it if Marius has died. As long as this ember of hope is burning low and deep inside of me, he is still breathing, still fighting.

I learn that he has been shot more than once.

_Someone has shot Marius._

I cannot even think the words, form them in my brain. I cannot imagine killing anyone, much less Marius. Truly, dark thoughts like that have only ever danced through my mind infrequently. Late at night, at times when I am feeling morbid, I would imagine dark things, horrors that I heard whispers about through stories and frightening scenes I have seen inacted on the streets of Paris. But they were not real! Not real murderous thoughts! Before tonight, I could not have said for sure if I believed that people reallt did murder each other. I would have said that it was a myth- murder was simply too evil to really exist.

Sometimes I feel lonely when I am lying awake and unable to sleep, and I imagine my mother- I think about who she was, and what she is doing now. She must be in heaven, I believe, and I sit in bed and wonder what she is doing: maybe looking down on me, maybe not. But that was how I thought of death- nothing more, nothing less. Nothing violent, for sure. I had heard that there were men who killed people, but I could not imagine them. Now I can: they are evil figured, hunched over and breathing through wheezes, with glowing yellow eyes, clothed in shadow. I cannot make him out fully. This is how Marius' attacker looks when I think of him. But truly, when I think of killing someone, I know I could never do it. Not even if the man who shot Marius stood in front of me, and I was holding a gun. I could not end anyone's life, even the person who might have ended Marius'. I just could not take someone's life from them.

Yet someone wanted to end Marius' life. Someone wanted Marius off of this earth. _My_ Marius. Well- they obviously were not sane. Any sane person could not look their potential victim in the eyes and kill them- I could not, I know. I would see them and only think of their wife, their child, their sisters, fathers, brothers, or- in Marius' case, the girl who loved them. For every man has someone who loves them, don't they?

Once Papa told me what happened, I demanded to go and see Marius right away.

"Father- I cannot simply _sit_ and _wait-_ please take me, Papa, please-"

"No, Cosette, that is impossible and quite improper."

Didn't he _understand?_ I feel like I am being tortured here, waiting to hear the news.

"Why can't you take me- I just want to help and see if he's alright-"

"There is a doctor there by now, I am sure of it. You would not be of much help anyway, Cosette, and I assure you it is not proper."

I have not asked yet how Monsieur Gillenormond's servant had found father and told him, and frankly I do not care. Father had handed me a note written by Marius' grandfather, reiterating what I already heard from him. It did not matter how Marius was injured, or where, just that he was, and that I could do nothing to help him.

_I may never see him again!_

Papa had been angry with me, I know, I could tell. After I insisted on seeing Marius again, and even began crying, he had almost raised his voice to me.

"Cosette!" he had said, his tone past patience. "Be grateful you are not being punished for lying to me about something of this magnitude. It was very wrong of you, _very wrong, _I hope you understand. For the last time, I cannot take you, Monsieur Gillenormond will not allow it, _I _will not allow it, and he cannot recover properly with you there. Right now, it is not your place to be there. It is probably best if you go to bed- tomorrow we can think of something more permanent."

I sniffle, sensing that the conversation is over and that Papa will not budge. "Can you go over there tomorrow and inquire over his health? Please, Papa- you must know I am sorry, deeply sorry for lying to you. I never had before, and I promise never to lie again- it's been awful keeping something from you. I've felt guilty, but _please understand me:_ I love him, Papa. I cannot go without knowing if he is alright- I shall go mad." My voice gets small and soft when I say this, and although it is manipulative, I think that I may have lessened some of father's anger and invoked some pity.

Papa sucks in his breath- I do not see him, for my face is buried in my hands and my eyes are blurred with tears anyway. But then I feel a large, warm hand on my shoulder, and look up. Papa's kind eyes look down at me. "I forgive you, Cosette. And... you shall not have to lie to me any longer. I feel as though I may have forced you into keeping this from me. Have you feared me? You will not have to in the future," he says, and I breath out a sigh of relief. There is more relief than I expect- I did not know how important his blessing was to me.

_If it matters anyway... His blessing could be a waste come tomorrow morning,_ I think, and feel immensely guilty about it. Lack of faith is a sin, I know- but sometimes there is not a way around it.

"I will ask the Gillenormond's if they need any help- possibly bandages? I will stop by tomorrow and come straight back here and let you know everything I can."

Fathers kindness once again surprises me, and I feel like a wicked daughter for ever fearing him, for not recognizing his true goodness. Finally, I dissolve, leaning into his embrace and sobbing into his shoulder.

"Everything will be alright, dear," Papa says in his low, raspy voice, and I believe him.

I am contented for a short while, or at least I try to be. I bury my feelings and resign myself to bed, not letting loose until I am safe under the covers. When I am under the blankets, hidden and protected, I let myself cry.

And cry, and cry and cry...

Hours later, I am exhausted. I know my eyelids will be inflamed come the morning, and too swollen to open properly. What do I care? After all these tears have fallen, I feel that my body has been purged of any feeling. This numbness is a relief! But I do not let myself sleep yet: I say some anxious prayers to Mary, and pray for my Marius' health. I send some thoughts to him, and I hope he recieves them. He musn't give up, not yet. It's not his time to leave me.

Sleep finally overtakes me when I can fight it no longer, and I am safe for a time- in my dreams, Marius is not dying.

But when I wake up, reality is only that much harder to live.


End file.
